


A Burning Rage Inside My Soul

by TheRogueHuntress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family, Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Obscurus (Harry Potter), Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRogueHuntress/pseuds/TheRogueHuntress
Summary: There's something inside of Harry so full of rage he can barely stop it from bursting free.





	A Burning Rage Inside My Soul

It was cold outside, Harry’s breath misting the air as he huddled against the roots of a fir tree. The playground just two streets down from Privet Drive was abandoned, the only sound the wind whistling through the swing set and the creak of metal. He pulled his coat closer around him, glad that Dudley had fast outgrown it so that Harry had received it with only a few small tears and rips that he’d been able to fix up from what he’d sneaked from Aunt Petunia’s sewing kit.

He huffed again, watching his breath curl in a pale grey mist before his eyes, and imagined that he was a dragon, big, strong, and able to breathe fire. Harry imagined having a heat inside his belly and he thought that maybe dragons weren’t ever cold. He would quite like to be a dragon, he thought.

The sky was growing dark and he knew he’d soon have to return to Privet Drive so that he could start helping Aunt Petunia with dinner. Harry always had to help with dinner, even though Dudley never did. He was quite certain dragons never had to help anyone with dinner either. They’d just eat whoever tried to make them before flying away to their cave of treasures. _Snap, crunch!_ Aunt Petunia would be brittle, gamey. _Crack, glub!_ Uncle Vernon would be fatty, tough. _Squish, splat!_ Dudley would be tender, tasteless.

Harry wouldn’t mind if a dragon came along and ate them all.

He shivered and a tear trickled down his cheek. If Aunt Petunia knew he’d been dreaming of dragons she’d send him to bed without any supper and if Uncle Vernon knew, Harry would be punished even worse. It wasn’t fair. Harry wanted to be like Dudley; he wanted them to give him warm dinners and new clothes and hugs that squeezed him tight.

_They don’t deserve you._

Harry shivered again and this time it was unrelated to the cold. The voice that lived inside his mind very rarely spoke up, but when it did it chilled him to the bone. He knew it wasn’t normal, not even like the imaginary friends some other children had. Harry’s voice was low and guttural, and when it spoke it promise pain.

_Yes, pain… we will get our revenge… we will be strong… soon…_

Another tear escaped Harry and he angrily wiped it away. “No!” he shouted to the empty park, curling in on himself further. The voice didn’t answer and Harry could almost pretend he’d imagined it… almost.

Glancing up toward the rising moon, Harry got to his feet and dragged them toward 4 Privet Drive. It was the first day of the winter break and Harry knew that Aunt Petunia would want everything to be perfect for her ‘Didums’. He had better not be late.

* * *

 

Dinner was served, Harry having chopped the vegetables, minded the potatoes, and stirred the gravy. The Dursleys tucked in and Harry watched them with resentment before picking at his own meal. His portions were meagre as Aunt Petunia worried that if he ate more he’d deprive Dudley of thirds or fourths.

In honesty, Dudley could rather do without seconds, let alone thirds.

“What’s that long face?” Uncle Vernon said, his voice dangerously flat. Harry forced a smile.

“Nothing, sir,” he said. “Thank you for dinner.”

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes, but could find no fault in Harry’s words.

He huffed. “Yes, you ought to be grateful,” he muttered and shoved a whole Yorkshire pudding in his mouth.

Dudley was glancing at the chicken on Harry’s plate with beady eyes. Harry realised that if he didn’t hurry, he might not eat at all, and scoffed a mouthful down.

“Mind your manners!” Aunt Petunia snapped, her hands curled tightly around the silverware. Dudley grinned at him through a mouthful of broccoli and poured gravy straight into his mouth.

“Oh, Didums, do be careful,” Aunt Petunia said, dismissing Harry’s mishap. She patted at where Dudley had split gravy all down his face with her napkin.

It wasn’t fair. The dark, resentful being inside Harry growled, beginning to stir.

Harry hastily glanced down and continued eating. He blinked to stop himself from crying and internally said in his strictest voice; no!

_Why not? I could make you powerful; I could make them pay._

“What are we doing with the boy come September?” Uncle Vernon said, addressing Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia pursed her lips, turning up her nose.

“Oh, I don’t know. Will anywhere accept him?” she asked, eying Harry with disgust.

Harry wished he could just return to his cupboard, where he could stick his fingers in his ears and pretend that he couldn’t hear at all. His hands trembled and he set down the cutlery and clasped together them in his lap.

“Well, Pet, I’m not paying for his education. He’s a drain enough on our resources as it is.”

Harry thought of the pile of presents Dudley received each Christmas and firmly kept his mouth shut. Dudley would have never been considered a drain.

His cousin was making faces at him, but he looked all the stupider for it. Harry stared back passively and imagined each of those expressions on Dudley once more, only with his head removed from his body and mounted on a pike like they did in days of old. Blood would drip down the wooden stick: _plop, plop, plop_.

“Boy!” Uncle Vernon cuffed him, hard enough that Harry saw stars. He blinked to clear his vision before looking up.

“Yes?” he replied, taking on at the last, “sir.” He realised he must have missed some of their conversation.

“You’ll be going to the local Surrey County School, alright?”

Harry nodded obediently.

“Better than where your deadbeat parents went, at least,” Uncle Vernon muttered under his breath.

Harry tensed. “My parents?” he said quietly.

“Good for nothing,” Aunt Petunia snapped. “Troublemakers and lawbreakers!”

“Scum,” Uncle Vernon added, smiling widely.

 _Lawbreakers_ , Harry thought. He looked at Aunt Petunia, the disdain evident in her eyes, then at Uncle Vernon, his glee at having put Harry in his place obvious and obscene.

Anger, fear, and hatred boiled over inside Harry, starting in his belly before exploding through his veins. It was as if a black film had covered over his eyes, as if something else had taken possession of his body and all he could feel was pain and the need to inflict that pain on others. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to _BURN DOWN THE WORLD_.

“Die in hell,” Harry growled, but it wasn’t his voice. Instead, the _other_ thing inside him spoke aloud for the very first time. It chuckled, using his voice, low and ominous. The expressions upon Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s face were frozen in place, but his cousin’s eyes had turned wide with fear.

Of course, Dudley uttered the word that cursed them all. “FREAK!” he screamed.

Harry gave up control of his body entirely, his vision going black. His body felt sticky, like tar, and his thoughts turned dark before his mind gave up, retreating in upon itself.

The last thing he heard was the sound of screaming and his own voice, yet nothing like it, laughing wildly.

* * *

 

“It’s an Obscurus, Albus, there’s nothing else it could be,” someone was saying, a voice buzzing just within earshot. It was a woman speaking as she bustled about a room.

“Poppy, please, it can’t be,” another voice answered, a man, elderly.

The woman, Poppy, huffed. “It is, and the most powerful I’ve ever seen. His magic is so strong it’s developed an entire consciousness of its own - one filled with pain and suffering and rage.”

Harry wondered who they were speaking about.

It couldn’t possibly be him, could it?

“Hush now, Albus, he’s waking,” Poppy said.

Harry feigned a yawn and slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry as he was lacking his glasses, but they were gently placed upon his face only moments later.

A person, dressed all in matronly whites, came into view. She had a kind face that was wrinkled with age.

“Hello there, Harry,” she said. She stroked a strand of hair back from his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Harry answered honestly. He glanced about the room. It looked a little like a hospital, yet at the same time, not at all similar. In the doorway stood a tall, white-bearded man wearing a peculiar cobalt blue dress.

“Do you remember what happened, my dear boy?” the man said. He must have been the one that Poppy had addressed as ‘Albus’. Harry eyed him warily.

“No…” he admitted, deciding he probably wouldn’t be able to bluff his way out of this.

“Small mercies,” Poppy said, under her breath.

“Ah,” Albus said, looking impossibly sad. He took a step closer before hesitating. “I fear I have some rather bad news.”

Harry was in a room he’d never been before, with two strangers tending to him as he woke up after letting a monster escape from inside him. He tilted his head and stared at Albus, wondering what on earth could be deemed as bad news to him.

“Your family have passed away, I’m afraid,” Albus said and he looked truly upset. “There’s been a terrible accident.”

“All of them?” Harry asked, feeling numb.

“Yes, my boy. I’m so sorry.”

Harry closed his eyes and remembered the echo of screams. He remembered himself laughing; he remembered losing control.

He remembered a rage buried deep within that was so angry and so powerful he thought that he might tear himself apart and the rest of the world along with him.

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley were dead.

He wasn’t sorry at all.

**Author's Note:**

> If the Dursleys had been a little crueler, if Harry had been a little less kinder... would this have happened?
> 
> Anyone that tries to tell me the Dursleys aren't abusive should go and sleep in a cupboard for 10 years and then try to argue with me.


End file.
